Rewritten
by repmetsyrrah
Summary: Still mourning the death of his wife, Tom Branson takes a walk through the grounds of Downton, only to run into a strange man with a blue box also suffering though a recent loss.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This was inspired by a Tumblr post ages ago and originally posted over there on Christmas Day as a bit of a teaser. I've started working on the rest of this now so I felt it time to post here too. The title is subject to change but I wanted to get started :P

This was started before either Christmas Special and so it doesn't really fit with the _Doctor Who_ one (you'll see what I mean) but you'll just have to forgive that. Timeline wise, it's set a few weeks after _The Angels Take __Manhattan_ and just under a week after _Downton Abbey_ 3x05. Well, it will be with the first chapter.

This is also going to be quite dark in some places. Just warning you now.

**Prologue**

* * *

"Sybil?"

"Sybil?"

Sybil Branson frowned as the voice beside her started to pull her from her sleep.

"_Sybil!_"

"What?" she huffed in annoyance, rolling over to be greeted by her husband's terrified face. "What is it?" she asked immediately awake and alert. "Is it the baby? Is everything-"

"You're here," he breathed and suddenly his arms were around her, pulling her close to him and holding her tight.

"Did you have a nightmare?" she asked, relaxing slightly now that it seemed Saoirse was fine and letting him hold her as close as he needed to, hoping he'd recover once he realised he was awake and safe with her.

"No… I think-" he broke off and buried his face in her hair.

Tom was _shaking _and Sybil didn't know what more to say. Whatever he'd dreamt seemed to have affected him deeply and his grip on her was not loosening, like he was afraid she was going to vanish.

At a loss of what else to do she tilted her head up and kissed him, hoping to reassure him she was still here, and with no plans to go anywhere soon.

He returned the kiss with desperation and it wasn't long before his hands were tugging at her nightgown and he pulled back with a question in his eyes.

"Yes," she told him, "we can, but gentle." Her scar had almost healed from the caesarean but it was still a little tender but she knew he would be careful and she wouldn't lie that she had dearly missed being with him.

He seemed to have no desire for their usual passion anyway, going slowly and holding her close like he simply needed to reassure himself she was _there_. Sybil simply returned his embrace, kissing him and softly assuring him everything was okay.

"Better now?" she asked after, holding him close, his head resting on her chest and his arms clinging around her waist.

He nodded, staring at the wall as if he was afraid to close his eyes again. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

"It's okay," she assured him, softly stroking his hair in the comforting way she knew he loved, "it must have been a pretty bad dream."

He nodded, holding her closer. "The worst."

—

"_So you think I'll remember this?"_

"_You might. Paradoxes can be unpredictable."_

Tom Branson stood by the back wall of the hospital, just behind the low hedge running beside the road. The same place he been standing last night when he was sitting inside waiting to know if Sybil's life had been saved.

Or what he remembered as last night. In reality, it was over a month ago.

In his head were two memories, the first beginning with a mad rush to the hospital, an operation and a wife who needed weeks of rest and a gorgeous baby daughter called Saoirse.

A time of trials, of Sybil's recovery and his failure to find a job. The battle over the Christening, Sybil persuading him not accept his brother's offer, Matthew asking him to stand in as the temporary estate agent and Lord Grantham's continual disproval of him. Sleepless nights and Sybil's insistence they could manage without a nurse, and the joy at each new milestone in their child's life.

Then there was the other memory, which happened at the same time, or rather,_didn't_. The time his wife had died.

A time of despair, of his daughter, Sybbie, being the only light in his world. A time of travelling, of monsters and nightmares and places he never dreamed were possible. Of time and space and nurses who were cats and other planets and statues that moved. Of the past and the future, of paradoxes and time rewritten.

Time that never happened.

His time with the Doctor.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Sorry this took so long, I've never written the Doctor before so I was really quite nervous about it but I hope I got him right.

This story assumes more knowledge of _Downton Abbey_ than _Doctor Who_ but this chapter assumes you've at least seen _The Angels Take Manhatten_ and have a basic knowledge of Amy and Rory's story. If you don't, yet for some reason are desperate to read this story, I suggest google.

**Chapter One**

* * *

Tom Branson shivered as he walked the grounds of Downton.

It wasn't cold, but it was lonely. Terribly so.

His wife was only six days buried and her loss was still raw and painful. He felt like a part of himself was missing, dead with her, never to return.

His daughter was the only comfort he found but there was so much he couldn't do for her that more often than not he was relegated to the side of the room, feeling utterly helpless as he watched the nurse take care of her.

He had all but fled the house after breakfast that morning. Some days he never wanted to leave, when he wasn't with his daughter he followed Matthew or Cora around like a lost puppy and refused to leave his wife's childhood home, desperate to be close to any part of her.

Other days, like today, the sight of it all, even her family, only made him want to be sick. To burn it all down and yell and scream and demand to know why they were all still here, why they were allowed to keep their wives, their husbands, while Sybil, his beautiful, wonderful, darling Sybil, had to be taken from him.

He knew it was normal, but the knowledge didn't make it easier.

Nothing would ever make it easier.

He wandered through the patch of woods, not entirely sure where he was going. In the back of his mind he had an idea he'd probably end up in the village for lunch, he could already tell he wouldn't be ready to brave the house again until at least dinner time.

It wasn't as if anyone needed him.

Matthew and Mary had each other, Lord Grantham was at his mother's house, Edith and Lady Grantham were together in the library last he'd seen and his own daughter was more content in the arms of a woman he'd only meet a week ago.

He had almost lost himself completely in his thoughts when he became aware of a noise in the direction of one of the small lakes that dotted the estate. It sounded like a roar almost, like the ocean from a distance.

Intrigued, Tom set off to investigate, only growing more confused as he came around the corner to a thoroughly impossible sight.

His first thought was that there was a hole in the air. He couldn't have described how he did but looking at the sight above the lake, Tom just _knew_ it was an absence that he had laid eyes on. It wasn't anything there, so much as something _not_ there. Like someone had found a seam in the stitching of the sky and pulled it apart.

His second thought was that it wasn't so much a hole, at a swirling pool of... something. Light almost, but it wasn't solid, it was moving, constantly. It made him feel strange, looking into it, like he was being pulled into it but at the same time like he should turn and run, get as far away from it as possible.

His third thought was the he was going mad.

"Watch out!"

Tom ducked instinctively at the sound of the voice, throwing himself to the ground just in time to see a brilliant flash accompanied by a loud boom, followed by an ominous cracking noise.

He managed to get his feet back under him just in time to avoid being crushed underneath a branch that had fallen from the tree above him.

"Run!" The voice was closer this time, very close in fact, as its owner appeared right next to him, grabbing at his arm and pulling Tom along the shore of the lake to crouch behind another tree.

The roaring noise was growing by the second and another loud boom sounded from the lake. This time though the brilliant flash was across the other side of the water and it wasn't like anything Tom had ever seen before.

It was fire, or pure light. Straight and blazing, the bolt shot from the whirling light into the ground near the water, sending up a burst of gravel and dirt before vanishing, leaving only a burning afterimage on his eyes.

The roaring grew louder.

"What the hell is that?!" Tom yelled, covering his ears.

"It's- duck!"

"Is it attacking us?" Tom asked, both of them shouting to be heard above the noise.

"No, no, it's not alive, but we do need to close it."

"Close it?" Tom was more than beyond confused now.

"We need to distract it."

"_Distract it?_" The man was mad, Tom decided. And perhaps, the thought, glancing back at the shimmering whirlpool of light, he was too. "You said it wasn't alive!"

"It's not," the other man assured him, "but it's like lightening. I made a... a little bit of a miscalculation –duck-" another bolt slammed into the tree just as the threw themselves out of the way. "- and it seems instead of closing it I opened it more and it's like lightening. It's not alive but it's attracted to certain things. Like us."

"Wonderful." Tom fought the urge to laugh. Clearly Sybil's loss had finally taken its toll and he'd snapped.

"Now, distraction. Run over there, that ought to do it."

"Wait?" Tom looked at his new and, quite possible mad, companion like he was, well, mad. "_I'm_ the distraction?"

"Of course, here," the Doctor held up a long object, that was glowing green at one end. "I think I can close it but I need a second or two of uninterrupted sonicing to do it. Don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along!"

"I don't-"

"Off you go!"

Not that he was given much choice in the end, Tom thought, as the other man pushed him out from the cover as he pointed the strange, glowing object in the direction of the light. Not stopping to wonder what exactly it was or what the man intended to do with it, Tom ran as fast as his feet would take him, hoping somewhat that he'd wake up soon.

There was another flash and Tom gave a shout as he dodged and tripped, landing heavily on his arm and twisting it under him.

"There!"

Tom lifted his head just enough to see the other man raise his arms in triumph as the air above the lake calmed and the roaring noise abated enough that he could think clearly.

Not that it helped him sort through the last two minutes and organise them into anything coherent and plausible at all.

"Are you alright?"

Tom jumped at the closeness of the inquiry, before realising the man had come over to join him when he lay, checking his injured arm.

"Fine," he answered, after assuring himself it wasn't broken.

He wasn't sure what to say after he'd confirmed he was still in one piece. He had rather been expecting to wake up, and was confused when it didn't seem forthcoming.

He continued to stare at the sky, relieved he didn't have to endure the cold emptiness of the bed again but that did leave the matter of what to do now. So he did the only thing he thought polite when meeting a stranger, he made conversation.

"I haven't seen you around here before."

"I'm not sure I've been here before..." the other man said, seeming unbothered by Tom's sudden expedition into small-talk, "where is here?"

"You're on the grounds of Downton Abbey."

"Ah." The man nodded. "And where is that?"

Tom sat up and raised an eyebrow but the man seemed genuine. "Yorkshire. England," he added, just for good measure.

"England," the man repeated, "well I suppose that makes some sense. What year is it?"

Tom raised both eyebrows at that but the man returned his look with a straight face so Tom just sighed. "1920."

"1920?" the man asked in a surprised tone, "What's in 1920? Why did she bring me here?"

Tom shook his head at the rambling man, wondering if he should get Dr. Clarkson or check to see if any psychiatric patients had escaped from any nearby facilities. Maybe get himself checked out at the same time.

"What did you say your name was again?" he asked.

"I'm the Doctor."

"Doctor who?" Tom asked, growing more confused by the second.

"That's the question isn't it? Just the Doctor. That's all. Yourself?"

Tom eyed him again, much more suspiciously than he had at first. "Tom," he answered finally, "Tom Branson."

Silence fell again and, growing increasingly worried he was not asleep, Tom broached the subject of what the hell had just happened.

"What... what just happened?"

"We just fixed a temporal anomaly, not an overly bad one, but still, not something you'd want just, hanging around near where people are," the Doctor told him, waving his arms around his head in a gesture that did nothing to clarify his words.

"What's a... temporal anomaly?"

"It's a name for something that is both anomalous and temporal. In this case, just a minor distortion in time above the lake. It would have affected the surrounding areas a little but I doubt you'd have noticed."

"Right."

The man used far too many words, Tom thought. And he didn't even make sense of them.

"So you fixed that though?"

"Closed it," the other man replied, "it's still there I suppose but it's more like a door that was ajar and now we've shut it and locked it and thrown away the key. It could have been worse though, could have been a crack."

Tom blinked. "... Right."

"So what brings you here?"

Tom blinked, surprised by the question. "I'm- staying in the house," he told the man, gesturing back in the direction of Downton. He couldn't quite bring himself to accept he was living there- not yet, it was easier to pretend it was only a temporary arrangement.

"The house?"

"Downton Abbey, it's the big house. Back there. Seat of the Earl of Grantham," he added for good measure.

"Oh, are you a Lord then?"

"No!" The Doctor jumped with the force of his exclamation. "No," Tom continued more calmly, "no, I'm not. My wife- she... My wife grew up there. We were just staying until..."

He broke off, finding his chest tightening at the thought of the future they'd spoken of. "I lost her," Tom said quietly, not even sure why he was telling this man. "She gave birth... to our daughter... there were... complications."

"I'm sorry."

Tom merely nodded, afraid he'd break down if he tried to talk any more.

"I lost some friends recently too... not in the same way," the Doctor told him after a moment, with a distant look on his face. "But they are lost. I can't ever see them again..."

"How do you mean?" Tom asked, almost instantly regretting the question. Thankfully the Doctor didn't look upset by his inquiry, though he didn't answer straight away.

"I'm not sure you'd believe me," he said after a moment, but there was a tone to his voice that surprised the Irishman, almost like a challenge.

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Even if I don't, I've nothing else to do today. Go on then."

* * *

The Doctor, as it turned out, had been completely true to his word.

"I don't understand," Tom said after he'd finished his story. He didn't believe him either but that would sound too much like admitting defeat.

The truth was Tom didn't understand an awful lot of the things in the story he'd just heard: the angels that moved, the hotel with its rooms of people already there, the daughter who was older than her parents and the man who'd watched himself die before dying _again_ (but not) then being sent back in time...

This man could give H.G. Wells a run for his money. Though at least that man could make things sound at least a little plausible.

The one thing he did understand far too well was that the Doctor had suffered a loss. For all the mad things he seemed to believe it was in his eyes. That look. The same one Tom saw in the mirror every morning.

He had lost someone dear to him and he was hurting. Badly.

That look, more than anything, made Tom believe him. And doubt his own sanity.

"I hate endings."

It was the third time the other man had made that announcement, Tom still hadn't spoken and nor had he woken up so he decided to attempt an offer of comfort.

"But they're together," he reminded the Doctor, "which should offer some consolation."

The other man didn't speak.

"I wouldn't care where I was if I could have Sybil back," he told the Doctor. "I made such a fuss about living at Downton but now... it seems so trivial," he said quietly. "but, your friends, I'm sure they miss you as much as you miss them but they're safe and alive and together. At least you know that."

Because apparently they wrote him a book. He didn't really understand that bit either but this was turning into a very strange day and Tom's latest theory was that someone had slipped him something in his breakfast.

Dr. Clarkson had recommended pills for him, Tom recalled. Cora had summoned him back to the house after it had become clear to everyone he wasn't sleeping. He'd rejected the offer but maybe she hadn't.

"They're not with me."

Tom didn't know how to reply to that. On one hand he understood the Doctor's pain, on the other, he wanted to hit him and remind him that at least this Amy and Rory, whoever they were, were alive and growing old _together_ which is more than he was ever going to get with his love.

Suddenly he saw it all, his whole life stretched out before him. Years of waking alone, in a cold, lonely bed. Decades of turning out the light himself, of whispering his last 'goodnight' to a still room. A lifetime of telling his daughter only stories of the wonderful woman who had given her life.

It was never supposed to have ended how it did. He'd promised her the world and instead she'd died in the very place they'd fought so hard to escape.

"Sybil wanted to travel," Tom told the Doctor, his chest physically hurting as he recalled the life they had planned together. "She always told me there was so much of the world and she wanted to see it all... but she never even got that chance."

"Why don't we go somewhere then?" the Doctor said suddenly.

"What?" Tom blinked.

"I was brought here, for some reason, at first I thought it was that temporal distortion near the lake, not that it was too dangerous-"

"Not dangerous!" Tom exclaimed, rubbing his arm.

"Not by itself, closing it maybe but if we'd just left it all that really would have happened is maybe some people might be older than they should be, age gaps getting bigger or smaller, plants flowering at the wrong time, annual events coming twice a year or skipping some, those sort of things. Though I doubt anyone will notice. Brilliant at ignoring this stuff, humans are."

"_What_?" Tom repeated, not sure he understood anything the man had said.

"Your wife was right you know, there is _so_ much in the world to see and you, Tom Branson, will see it."

"How?" Tom asked, shaking his head. "I'm stuck here. I have no job and a newborn baby, I'm exiled from my home country. Besides," he added quietly, almost to himself, "it was Sybil I wanted to see it with."

The Doctor just shook his head. "You said you've got nothing else to do for the day, come with me. Just a day."

"Just a day?"

"You'll be back before dinner," the Doctor assured him.

Tom stood up, brushing off his suit and sized up the man before him.

He seemed genuine, though Tom supposed he could still be insane. He was slight though, and not terribly coordinated, if his earlier display was anything to go by. Tom felt in no way threatened by the man, but if it came down to it, he could escape him easily.

"You'll show me the world?" Tom asked, unable to keep his tone from sounding as if he was humouring a small child. But if the Doctor was offended he didn't show it.

"Wherever you want to go."

"And I'll be back before dinner?"

"I promise."

Tom looked to the lake, where less than an hour before he'd seen something just as impossible as what the Doctor offered.

Sybil would have loved it.

Tom turned back to the strange, impossible man and shrugged.

"Why not?"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** So glad everyone liked the last chapter! I'm terrible at review replies so sorry about that. I'll try harder from here on. Anyway, onwards!

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Tom gaped.

The Doctor grinned.

"How..."

He turned and ran back out the door, the sound of laughter following him.

Bursting back out into the woods Tom turned and looked again, to be sure he hadn't mistaken some hidden building for the blue box he'd thought he entered.

He placed a hand on the side of the door and, holding it to the wood the whole way, walked slowly around the outside, just to be certain it wasn't a trick of the light. When he reached the door again he stepped back inside and finally closed his mouth.

"Go on," the Doctor prompted him, still grinning. "Say it, everyone does."

"It's bigger on the inside."

The Doctor gave a bounce and grinned even wider, before bounding up the steps to a platform that took up most of the impossibly large room.

"I haven't believed in magic since I was a child," Tom said, walking around the room with his hands held slightly out to his sides, feeling slightly unbalanced by the whole experience.

"It's not magic, it's science. Plain and simple."

"Science... That makes sense." More sense than magic at any rate.

"That's it?" The Doctor sounded almost disappointed.

Tom shrugged, somewhat apologetically. "If I showed my grandfather some of the things in Downton, or even in-" _in our flat in Dublin. Where it was just us and we were so happy._

He pushed the thoughts away, before they threatened to overwhelm him. "If I showed my grandfather the new cars I'm driving," he continued when he was able, "or even Mrs Hughes' toaster, it would seem magic to him too."

He looked up at the strange man, now leaning on the rail that ran around the platform, looking down at him.

"It's like that isn't it?" He carefully picked his way up the steps to join the Doctor, his eyes still darting this way and that, trying to take everything in. "This is just technology, but... it's not from here is it? Or..." Another thought occurred to him, a thought beyond even this impossibility before him. "You're not from _now_," Tom finished slowly, his last word quiet yet still seeming far too loud.

"You are quick." The Doctor sounded impressed.

"That's why you asked what year it was, isn't it?" Tom asked slowly, still alternating between acceptance and waiting to wake up, possibly in an asylum.

"Exactly. Though she does usually let me know but on occasion- more than one-" he added, frowning at the control panel in the middle of the platform (Tom wasn't sure what else it could be with all those buttons and levers) "- she takes me somewhere and I'm left to sort it out."

"It's alive?" Tom asked, suddenly feeling slightly alarmed.

"No," The Doctor assured him, before immediately retracting his assurance by adding, "Well, yes but not in any way you'd think it."

"So-"

"She's not-"

"She?"

"Don't you call your modes of transport 'she'?" The Doctor reminded him.

Tom had to admit that was true, but the cars hadn't been alive in _any_ sense of the word. He did call them 'she' though- he remembered how hard he had laughed when Sybil, one night in their bed in Dublin, had admitted it had once made her somewhat jealous, to watch him run his hands over a car and declare that '_she_ was a fine thing'.

"_I told you you were fine many times too," _he'd reminded her.

"_But it took you longer to put your hands on me," _she retorted, and he'd quickly set about making up for lost time.

His chest tightened thinking of better times. Times he'd never get back, never repeat.

"That's different," he said, pushing back his emotions in a way that was becoming well-practiced, "they never took me places of their own accord."

The Doctor nodded. "No, I suppose not."

"She is alive then."

"Yes," the Doctor agreed finally, "but not-"

"Not in any way I'd understand?"

"TARDISes are grown, or were,' the Doctor explained, "they are living things and yes, she does have a mind of her own but you can't compare it to yours, or even mine."

Tom considered for a moment. "Like the thing at the lake?"

"No, that wasn't alive. That was like lightening, it was attracted to us but it wasn't alive in _any_ way."

Tom considered that for longer than a moment.

"So where are we going?" he asked, deciding he was probably not going to make any progress in understanding anything more about that particular subject.

"Where ever you want," the Doctor told him, animating suddenly and bounding around the central controls. "_When_ ever you want."

"When..."

"This is called the TARDIS- Time And Relative Dimension In Space," the Doctor told him, "she travels though time too. Where ever, when ever," he repeated.

Tom just shook his head. It all seemed so impossibly mad and yet- "There are more things in heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy," he murmured quietly.

"What?" The Doctor's frowning head appeared from behind the column.

"Nothing... I don't want to be gone too long," he reminded him.

"I said back before dinner."

"No." Tom shook his head. "I know, time machine, but _I _don't want to be gone too long. I don't want to go more than a day without seeing my daughter... She's all I've got."

There was a pause and for a moment Tom thought that might be it. That the Doctor would either reject his condition or he'd wake up but-

"Of course," the other man agreed, "I can do a day trip. No problem. So then," he flicked a lever before striding out and spreading his arms wide, as if offering him the world. "Tom Branson, all of time and space, anywhere anywhen. What first?"

What first? That was obvious, but Tom dismissed it immediately. Obvious, and much too painful.

"Forward," He decided.

"Forward?"

"I can read about the past in His Lordship's library," Tom told him, "even if it is a biased version. But I think I spent so long fighting for the future that I'd much rather see where we're going than we're we've been."

The Doctor grinned. "I know the perfect place."

* * *

Rethinking one's entire world view was something Tom Branson had once devoted himself to convincing other people do. It was an unusual experience to find he needed to do so himself.

Yet he supposed if he had so expected it from other people, he could see fit to at least make an attempt at it.

Though in fairness, Ireland's struggle for independence had existed within the realm of the known universe.

This... this was something else entirely.

"There are two moons," he said faintly, for perhaps the fifth time.

"Three, actually," the Doctor corrected unable to stop grinning at the other man's amazement. "The other one isn't up yet."

Tom just shook his head and stared at the two cratered orbs gazing down on them through the trees.

At least _those_ seemed normal. He wondered if the Doctor had done that deliberately. Taken him from one patch of trees to another to ease the shock.

It reminded him of the woods back home almost. When his mother would take him and his siblings off to their grandfather's farm for two weeks in the summer. They were supposed to have helped out of the farm but Grandpa Joe had had such a soft spot for his grandkids and more often than not the Branson children found themselves roaming the woods on the side of the fields, looking for fairies in the woods, alternating between teaming up with the other tenant children and waging war on them, never sparing a thought to adult problems.

Right there and then he vowed to take Sybbie back one day. He refused to let himself think to long about the fact she would never have siblings to join her, knowing it would only hurt too much.

"So, are you going to tell me where we are?" he asked, perhaps a bit too loudly, as he attempted to drown out any painful thoughts. "And when?" he added with a smile.

The Doctor closed the door to the TARDIS and nodded in the direction of a path Tom hadn't noticed before.

Together they started to walk. Tom tripping every so often because he couldn't stop looking upwards. In a way the moons almost made him feel dizzy, like the TARDIS had. One was almost three times the size of Earth's moon made him want to hide under something solid. The rational part of him knew it was perfectly safe but there was still something very disconcerting in having something so large hanging above him.

"Now!" The Doctor started suddenly, startling Tom. "Some history first I think- or not history really, for you at least. History for this place. Which is in your future..."

"I know what you mean," Tom assured him, surprised when he found he was telling the truth.

"Anyway," the other man continued, "_when_ we are is several thousand years into your future-" Tom tired briefly to comprehend that amount of time but soon realised that was only one more impossibility and just listened to the Doctor- "Earth is inhabited now but now you're spread right across the galaxy. Now, when they all left Earth for a bit-"

"You said Earth was still inhabited," Tom interjected, wondering when he'd started to believe this was really happening.

"It's inhabited right now," the Doctor confirmed, "but around the 28th century solar flares started roasting it so you lot built ships and just left, waiting for it to settle down again. Now, the ships- one to a country in most places, save the big ones like America, so much for_ united_ states-"

"Ships?" Tom interrupted.

"Spaceships."

"A whole country?"

"On a spaceship."

"Of course."

"Now, the sun has settled," the Doctor continued, not at all put off by Tom's confusion, "Earth in inhabitable again but people had been in these ships a few centuries by then and most had set down elsewhere. In fact, this whole system was settled by different Earth ships. And once Earth was liveable again, well, people already had homes here, whole countries had already made new lives on these planets and- oh, here we are!"

Tom found himself slowing as they approached the edge of the woods, stunned by the shining city rising in front of them.

At first it seemed as if it were all made of glass, impossibly high towers in the distance shone with light, reflecting the sun back across the sky, dazzling and brilliant. Some of them seemed to be connected and when he looked closely he could have sworn he saw something moving between them, like a train, on a track hundreds of feet in the air. He looked nearer to them and started to see more normal looking buildings. Different colours and made from wood and bricks- or something that resembled them.

There were the people too, they seemed normal for the most part but their clothes were different and the motorcars- at least Tom assumed they were motors. They had four wheels and moved along the ground but they were like nothing he'd seen before.

He wasn't sure how long he stood staring, the Doctor seemed content to let him do so. There was too much to take in. All of time and space- Tom thought it might take him that long just to fully comprehend this one place.

Yet, slowly, through all the strangeness, he found an odd familiarity around it, about the buildings, the people, the atmosphere. Almost as if...

"So countries became planets," he said slowly, looking to the Doctor for confirmation of the realisation he had arrived at.

"Tom Branson," the Doctor announced with a flourish, "welcome to New Ireland."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Thanks to babageneush on Tumblr for the beta of this chapter, I was a little worried about it but now if it's terrible, you can blame her too! :P

**Chapter Three**

* * *

If Tom spent the rest of his life in the city of Killiney, in the continent of Dublin, on the planet of New Ireland, he would still feel like he'd only seen a fraction of the wonders it held.

"Why isn't it called New Killiney?" he asked, that being the only question he found he could put into words right at that moment. Immediately he felt it had been a rather stupid thing to say but the Doctor didn't seem to care.

"Well the planet's New Ireland," he replied, "I suppose you're expected to realise it's not the Killiney of Old Ireland."

"Old Ireland? Is that my Ireland?"

"Ireland of Earth," the Doctor corrected, "_Your _Ireland, Ireland of the 20th century, is Ancient Ireland to these people."

"Ancient Ireland," Tom repeated. Thousands of years ago. When he'd been born.

_Thousands_ of years ago.

"That makes sense."

The Doctor gave him another disappointed look. "You're not much fun, are you?"

Tom laughed. "I am in shock, Doctor, don't worry about that."

They walked past another shop and Tom caught sight of his reflection in the window. His smiling reflection.

He stopped suddenly, the smile disappearing at once.

The Doctor gave him a curious look. Tom just shook his head and asked about the buildings, half-listening as the Doctor embarked on a complicated explanation involving something called 'anti-grav' and the various unique materials found on this planet that were wonderful for building such incredible structures.

Inside, he struggled. His wife had died not even a week ago and here he was laughing and smiling on a strange world further from home than he'd ever imagined.

He tried to tell himself she would want him to be happy but it didn't help, instead he focused on trying to take in everything. He'd told the Doctor he didn't want to be gone longer than a day so he didn't have much time.

The people gave them odd glances, though Tom could hardly fault them, their clothing stood out from the bright colours and strange designs the majority wore.

Very modern, thought Tom, quickly averting his eyes from a woman who wore a skirt so short he could see several inches above her knees. He immediately felt silly but it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps his analogy using his grandfather had been more apt than he realised. He was beyond old-fashioned here.

He also couldn't help notice more than a few of the looks they got were suspicious, rather than simply curious. Perhaps he was too used to country life being trapped at Downton, city people were less open and more wary. It seemed some things didn't change.

The roads were another wonder, filled with sleek, shining motors that glided almost silently along a dangerously-smooth looking surface. Though, when Tom bent down to look closer- getting a few more strange looks- he'd seen that the surface was quite porous, which presumably allowed the tyres to grip it with sufficient force to keep them on the road.

"So!" the Doctor announced suddenly, startling Tom from staring up at the railway suspended a hundred feet or more above his head. "Where do we start?"

"I have no idea," Tom told him, completely truthfully. There was far too much, he could spend the rest of his life here and still not feel satisfied he'd seen everything. And to think this incredible sight was only one city on the whole _planet_. To think that Ireland, _his_ Ireland that still struggled for independence, whose people died on the streets for the right to rule themselves, was going to one day become _this_. It was enough to make him weep with happiness.

If only Sybil could see it.

"Do they have a museum?"

The question came out almost without thought. It was the first thing Sybil had suggested they do for her first full day in Dublin. She had told him she always loved museums.

"_You get to see where a city's been, and often, where it's going."_

Her first day in Ireland had been spent at the museum, Tom felt it fitting for his first day on New Ireland.

The Doctor just grinned at him. "I knew I liked you."

* * *

The museum was a work of art in itself.

"There's more inside, you know," the Doctor told him impatiently.

Tom ignored him, gazing up in awe at the curving glass structure. It seemed almost to be made of shimmering silk that had been carefully draped around grey metal pillars, whose dullness brought a beautiful contrast to the rest of the shining surface.

"It's pretty isn't it?" a voice beside him commented. He turned to see a young girl of no more than ten smiling at his amazement. "I like the metal parts, they're made from part of the Killiney deck of Starship Ireland," the girl told him brightly. "We learnt about it in school and-"

"Kieran!" her mother turned and hurried back to her daughter's side. "Don't talk to strangers." She grabbed the girl's hand and pulled her away, shooting an angry glare in Tom's direction.

Tom didn't take it personally, but he continued watching them for a moment, with a slight frown.

"You do know all the good things are on the_ inside_?" the Doctor sighed, looking increasingly exasperated as he came back to join Tom.

"She sounded Irish," Tom said.

"What?"

"That little girl," he elaborated, "she sounded Irish but not... Not any accent I've heard before." It was odd, the way everything was somehow familiar but so different too. "Though, thousands of years..."

"Exactly." The Doctor nodded, grabbing Tom's arm and tugging impatiently. "Now come on, _inside_."

"Wait." Tom stood his ground as he realized something else. "English does change, even in a few hundred years. How can it have been thousands and only the accent's different?"

"Well they're not speaking English," the Doctor told him, "at least not the English you speak."

"But I understood her," Tom said, growing more confused.

"That's the TARDIS," the Doctor explained, tapping the side of his head with a finger, "automatically translates inside your head. They'll understand you too. Now, _inside_."

Tom finally followed the Doctor, letting the new information settle in his mind.

It was soon pushed almost completely from his thoughts, the interior of the museum being just as awe-inspiring as the outside, and even more so as it was filled with _things_. Most Tom didn't recognise- even the names on the plaques were beyond him. He was rather surprised then, to see something very familiar in a room seemingly devoted to jewellery. "Look at this, Doctor."

The plaque described the contents of the glass case as _'Ancient English jewellery box, late 19__th__ century.'_

The box itself was displayed oddly, tipped on its side so the bottom was at the front but Tom quickly saw why.

DOCTOR 1901

TB EC

"Is it real?" Tom asked, leaning so far in his face almost brushed the glass.

"The message?" The Doctor asked, walking around the cabinet.

"No, the box," Tom replied, "you said we were thousands of years in the future, but that's supposedly from my time... You think it's a message?" he asked, looking up.

"It looks like one," the Doctor pointed out but Tom frowned.

"I think it looks more like Dr. TBEC decided to mark his property."

"Oh yes, humans do that, don't you? Gouge your initials into everything you claim as yours."

"I carved my name into a desk at school," Tom recalled, "scratched it right over George O'Conner's. What do you mean 'humans'?"

"Who's George O'Conner?"

Tom shrugged. "No idea, some boy who'd had the desk before me. Are you not human?"

"Time Lord," the Doctor said, his tone light but his eyes suddenly looked terribly sad. "It's a vacuum."

"Pardon?"

"The cabinet," the Doctor elaborated, "it's a vacuum, not a single molecule inside it to eat away at the wood, and the glass will filter all the harmful light away. This will last another thousand years or more."

Tom tried to imagine that, something from his time surviving for thousands of years. He wondered if the person who'd made the jewellery box had ever imagined, as he crafted the fine golden decorations, that it could travel so far, remain for so long.

Like Ireland, he realised. He stood up and once again took in everything before him. Ireland, the Ireland his countrymen were building, that would last too. It would become this, this shining city, one of many on a whole planet...

He turned to tell the Doctor, wanting to share his excitement with someone but the other man had somehow managed to get himself right to the end of the room and Tom had to run to catch up.

Some things in the museum confused him, such as the room full of blue grass and floating crystal balls with no sign to tell him what the purpose was. But most things just left him in awe. The scale model of Starship Ireland, that had carried the Irish people here, the interactive planetarium where Tom, and the Doctor, had no shame in joining the children floating in the stars, pushing them here and there and bouncing off planets until the staff made them clear out for the next lot of museum patrons.

There were exhibits on all Irish history too, though he'd had an argument with the Doctor regarding the one on the 20th century.

"Spoilers!"

"You're the one that brought me here," Tom reminded him.

"Yes but I can't let you know too much about things you might potentially be involved in, it can... It can change things in a bad way."

It was more Tom's reluctance to think about how he wouldn't be involved in anything in his Ireland anytime soon than the Doctor's argument that made him give in.

He was reluctant when the time came to leave but as much as Sybil had loved museums she had made him show her the rest of the city too and the whole world was waiting outside.

"What do you say, lunch?"

"Already?" Tom squinted as he looked up at the sun. He could have sworn it had been morning only few moments ago. Then again, the museum had held his attention for what might have been hours, even if it had felt like minutes.

"Days are shorter here, and I'm hungry anyway."

Tom had to agree with that. For the first time since... since his daughter had been born, he found himself feeling hungry. "Food then," he agreed, following the Doctor as he set off once again.

The food looked ever stranger than the people. Brightly coloured and even occasionally glowing. If he hadn't been so hungry he might have tried to make an excuse but as it was he couldn't help but remember Sybil's enthusiasm at trying the new food on her first night in Ireland. _If she could do it_, he thought, as he bit into the strange, transparent green fruit.

"Oh, that's rather nice," he said in surprise.

The Doctor nodded as he stuffed his own mouth with the stringy, red dish he had ordered. "First thing you lot did with proper genetic manipulation," he said, around a mouthful of food. "Make all food taste good, even the healthy things."

Tom smiled and picked up what looked like, but probably wasn't, an orange.

* * *

All too soon, it seemed, the sun disappeared and Tom found the Doctor leading him back the way they had come. Part of him wanted to stay forever but another part, the biggest part of him, wanted to go home, not to Downton really, but to his daughter.

"Where's everyone gone?" he wondered out loud, after a few minutes. When they had arrived this way the streets hadn't been overly crowded but there had been a fair few. Now it was utterly deserted.

A man appeared on the other side of the street but hurried quickly into a house, not sparing the pair a glance.

Tom was starting to think that that would be the only other person but before he could even complete the thought a woman and child appeared around the corner, walking quickly towards them.

"Come on, I knew you'd make us late," the woman said to the boy beside her.

"It's only in the trees, Ma" the boy replied. "Not out here."

"Even so, I think- where are you off to?" she asked, her attention snapping from her son to the two men approaching them on the path. Tom was slightly taken aback by the strength of her tone, an odd mixture of concern and suspicion.

"We're just headed back to our ship," the Doctor informed them, pointing in the direction of the forest.

"You can't go into the woods at night!" The boy's alarm was so sudden and unexpected that Tom almost took a step back.

"It's okay-" he started but the boy shook his head violently.

"No! Are you mad?"

"Conner, calm down," the woman said softly, in a tone only a mother would know. But she was also looking at them in shock. "He's right, you can't go through the forest, not now the sun's set."

Tom opened his mouth to ask what was going on but the Doctor beat him to it. "Is this to do with all the missing people?"

Tom turned in surprise. "What?"

"Back in the museum, a woman mentioned the woods, I asked around, you were enthralled by the boxes-" the Doctor reminded him, "and it would seem Killiney is having a problem with their trees. People go in, and never come out."

"Only at night," the boy told them urgently, before his mother hushed him again.

"Folks have been going missing in the dark," she explained calmly, "people go look for them during the day and nothing happens but for the last month, anyone who goes in at night, doesn't come back out. Fourteen so far. It's all the news will talk about," she added, clearly wondering how they hadn't already known such a thing.

"That sounds a bit more than a problem," Tom said, the amazed and wondrous state he'd spent most of the day in vanishing rapidly to be replaced with a sense of alarm. What else hadn't the Doctor told him?

"It is," the woman told him, "and you can't risk adding to that number."

"But that's where the TARDIS is," Tom said, turning to the Doctor, "I can't get home without it."

"You can't go in there," the woman repeated. "Not tonight, you'll have to wait 'till morning. It's only a night."

Only the first night he'd spend without holding his daughter before bed. "Doctor, you promised," Tom reminded him.

"I know," the Doctor assured him, "I know, and I'm sorry."

"No one comes out, not at night, no one," the boy repeated. "You can't go in there. They won't let you anyway."

"I'm surprised no one stopped you on the way out," his mother added, "the police have been guarding it 21/8."

"Well they'd be the ones to talk to then, wouldn't they?"

"Doctor, I want to go home," Tom told him quietly, not wanting to sound like a petulant child but suddenly desperate for the weight of his daughter in his arms.

"We'll go up and see," the Doctor said. "But there might not be much I can do." He set off in the direction for the trees, ignoring the boy's cries to stop. Tom hesitated before following him quickly, somewhat surprised when the mother and son hurried after him.

The edge of the forest was completely transformed from the last time Tom had seen it. There was a row of policemen (and women, he noted) stretching as far as he could see, spaced evenly apart and barring anyone from venturing any further into the woods.

"Tell me about the missing people," the Doctor asked the first one they came to, evidently not bothering with pleasantries.

"That's been worldwide news for weeks," the policeman told him, with a suspicious look.

"We only just arrived," the Doctor told them, "today, from... Tarth."

The woman and boy gave them a look of surprise but the word seemed to make sense to the policeman who nodded in understanding.

"Well, they're saying the woods are cursed," he explained, "anyone who's gone in at night for the last month has disappeared without a trace. We've searched during the day, extensively, but found nothing."

"Nothing?" the Doctor asked.

"Not even footprints," the man replied.

"Absolutely nothing? Not even-"

"Sir," the policeman interrupted the Doctor with a glare and Tom instinctively stepped in front of Conner and his mother as he noticed the man's hand come to rest on what looked very much like a weapon. "After the first disappearances we sent in five officers from my unit, good men and woman, they're gone too. You think we haven't searched every inch with every resource we have? There's _nothing_. Now go find a place to stay or I'll find some beds for you down at the station."

"There's no need for that now, Officer Lang," the woman assured him, stepping between the Doctor and the policeman. "They'll stay the night with us. You can join one of the search parties tomorrow and go get your ship," she added to the Doctor.

Officer Lang continued to glare at the Doctor but made no other comment as he and Tom followed the mother and son back down into the streets.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Tom asked, not sure he'd feel safe inviting strangers into his house after fourteen others had disappeared nearby.

"Not at all," she assured him, "we take in travellers all the time, they do work around the house and we give them a bed."

"Well, I'm no stranger to work," Tom told her. "I'll pay my way if there's anything you need."

The woman nodded. "I don't think I got your name," she said with a smile. "I'm Lydia, and this is Conner." The boy made a face which didn't go unnoticed by anyone.

"Is that bad?" The Doctor asked.

"It's old," Conner sighed, "like _ancient_, I hate it."

"It's traditional," his mother sighed, in a tone that said they'd had the argument many times before.

"I like it," Tom offered, "I'm Tom."

"Tom? Where's that from?"

"From?" Tom asked, slightly surprised by the question.

"Is that a made-up name?" Conner nodded, "There's a girl in my class with one of those- she's called Frinn."

"I don't think my mother made it up," Tom stuttered, a little surprised. He thought it was a common name, clearly times did change.

"It sounds old," Lydia commented, "like an Ancient Earth name. I rather like it. _Tom_." She turned to the Doctor with an inquiring look.

"Oh, I'm the Doctor!"

"Doctor who?" Conner asked.

"Just the Doctor," he said, not looking up from staring intently at a short metal rod in his hand which Tom recognised from the lake.

"What is that?" Conner asked, beating him to the question.

"Sonic screwdriver," The Doctor replied as if it explained everything.

"Here we are," Lydia announced brightly, before anyone could ask for an elaboration, leading them through a low gate into the front yard of a large house. She waited until everyone was through before reaching down and pushing a button on the fence.

Tom jumped back as the air around them rippled with a slight hum and flashed blue for a fraction of a second. "Can't be too careful," Lydia told him, giving him an odd look.

"Sorry," Tom apologised, suddenly realising he'd panicked at what was probably the equivalent of locking the front door.

"No worries." She smiled again and looked towards the forest for a little while.

"There's something else." Tom would have been blind not to see it.

Lydia nodded. "My husband and eldest son have been missing in the woods for three weeks," she said quietly. "Conner's so sure we'll find them but... it's been hard. He's so certain, I'm worried what might happen if-" She broke off and Tom instinctively reached out to comfort her, laying a hand on her arm as she composed herself.

"I'm sorry." He wondered if he should mention Sybil but then even at the thought of her his throat tightened and he found he couldn't say anything anyway.

"It's okay," she assured him after a moment. "But that's why I can't let you go in there. I'm sure you have someone who'd miss you at home."

Tom blinked and swallowed hard. Lydia looked away politely. "I'm sorry," Tom said after a moment.

"No, I didn't..." She shook her head. "But you must come inside, I'll put dinner on. Derren's usually the cook but my Ma used to say there's _never_ an excuse not to show weary travellers some true Irish hospitality. No matter how far from Earth we are we've still got to uphold the traditions now don't we?"

"I'll be just a moment," he promised, glancing back towards the Doctor. Lydia nodded and went into the house.

Tom felt like a fool.

He'd known the Doctor for just over an hour when he'd followed him blindly into that stupid box and agreed to go travelling with him.

Sybil would have loved it, of course she would have. But Sybil had gone to the count too, he remembered, all those years ago. It was exciting and incredible but he should have thought, he should have considered his daughter, how selfish had he truly been to have put his desires over her?

"Can I have a word?" he asked the Doctor, who was explaining something about his screwdriver to Conner.

"We'll be in in a moment," the Doctor promised the boy, who nodded and followed his mother.

Tom waited until he was gone before turning his anger towards the other man. "You never said this would be dangerous."

"I never said it wouldn't be," the Doctor retorted but Tom wasn't in the mood for that sort of argument. "No, I'm sorry," he apologised, seeing Tom's expression, "but he said during the day it was safe, tomorrow morning, first thing, we'll find the TARDIS and I'll take you back. I-"

"What? You _promise_?" Tom asked, his voice low and angry. "Because you sure kept that last one."

He turned and followed Conner into the house before the Doctor could reply.

* * *

**A/N: IMPORTANT! **I previously mentioned this story would go to some dark places and I've decided to warn you right now that part of this fic will eventually deal with suicide. It's not in this part, on New Ireland, and I will warn you again before time. It is a while away though. It's not going to be graphic and it's no known characters (if that makes any difference). I just thought it could be sensitive to some people and they may want to be prepared.

It is a fair bit of time away though.


End file.
